Scars
by Simsim1705
Summary: A band of Kuru Elna's allies have new plan for assasinating the Pharaoh: through the wiles of a woman. Can Anzu, a famed asassin, pull this off or will Atem uncover the conspiracy and have her killed? Bakura x Anzu x Atem
1. Prologue

Hey all,

YES I KNOW Anzu isn't from the Ancient Egypt arc you dieheart cannoners!! But this story is _**extremely**_ cannnon besides that little fact considering I've spent hours researching Ancient Egypt.

Anzu's gonna be called **Anuket** here as she obviously wouldn't have a japp name n ancient Egypt. Anuket was a godess associated with gazelles, and since Anzu's a dancer, I thought hey why not?

* * *

Everything before that day is a blurred string of memories. Parents, home-- just distorted figures and a house of some kind. I can scarcely remember even the land where I was born.

I'll give you what I can of an introduction, in the hopes that you may grasp my tale. But the past does not concern me, and neither should it concern you. For what is the past, but a pointless anchor? Why be weighed down by what could have and what should have, when to survive, you need what **_will _and what ****_is_? **

I am an elite assassin. My sole duty is to permanently rid men of their worries. What difference does it make whether they are of an honored clan or noble reputation, when all men will face the same fate?

What my master dictates, I carry without question. He was the one who saved me from the streets, after all. He provided me with all that your "normal" parents would, if not more.

I'd simply be deluding myself-- it'd be an outright lie-- if I acted as though there was ever any "affection" between us. Through an unspoken contract, we both understand that I am no more than an instrument at his disposal; one of hundreds, I may add.

What would I know of human attachment, anyhow?

The point is rather clear: there is hardly, if any, need for human attachment.

When you're left on your own, you see, that's all you need. A human is an animal; animals were crafted for survival. Thus, one's only duty is to one's self; is to _survive_.

The logic of life is simple, really.

_Survive_.

* * *


	2. The Thief

**_ ' ' The Thief_** **_ ' ' _**

**_AN: Thanks for reviewing We're in like Sin! )_**

**Try and guess who the thief is. I dare you. **

**_Thebes, Egypt_**

_**1958 B.C. **_

The Bazaar

* * *

Stained-glass lanterns hung across lines from buildings, lighting their paths

Stained-glass lanterns hung across lines from buildings, lighting their paths. There was the noisy banter of haggling customers, and merchants calling their goods. Rare spices brought from the far lands of India perfumed the night air.

Bright blue eyes twinkled with pleasure.

Anuket loved coming to the markets, they were her second home. It was where generations of her family had thrived, after all. A merchant's paradise.

She wasn't meant to be out so late, but tonight was special. Her father, known for the rich quality of his craft as a jeweler, had repaired and was now delivering an antique, as he had called it, to a renowned family of nobles.

"_**Father, **_can I _please _see it now? We've been traveling for hours!" the young girl pleaded.

"No, Anuket," her father chided sternly. "This is irreplaceable. You'll lose it in a busy place like this."

"I won't! Just a peek!"

He groaned. She'd been traveling for hours without complaint, and a small peek couldn't hurt anyone, he supposed,

Reaching into his coat, he drew out a finely padded package, delicately pulling at the string.

She reached for it as though reaching for a small bird. Anuket turned the gold bracelet in her hands, awestruck.

It was simple, yet irresistibly elegant. A thin bangle with gemmed flowers wrought in pure Egyptian gold. Worth at least a prince's ransom. It was a special order, father had said. It was unfortunate her father would have to sell it along with the rest of the caravan's wares. Though he hadn't told her who the lucky customer was, clearly, he wouldn't offer such a piece in the common market.

She raised it up to the night sky, the glow of the market lanterns skipping across the gems--

She stared at her empty hands horrified.

It had all happened in less then a heartbeat. One second she was cradling it, admiring the imported Oriental jewels, the next--

"THIEF! Gaurds!!" her father screamed. We've been robbed! GAURDS!! OUR CARAVAN!!"

* * *

He wove through the market crowds with sleek, faultless agility. He ducked, dove, darted past people and was long gone before they noticed even the ghost of his presence.

"THIEF! Guards!! We've been robbed! GAURDS!! OUR CARAVAN!!" his victim shrieked.

All hell broke loose-- frantic shouts, blades unsheathed, absolute terror fell in his wake as he swept the marketplace. He spared them a glance over his shoulder. Heh, two beer-bellied, middle aged men? No competition. He smirked. _And they call themselves guards…._

He knew the city like the back of his hand. Its cracks, its crevices, its alleyways were just as much home to him as the slums he had struggled to survive in.

He turned a corner, breaking into the streets of "upper" Alexandria. He'd stick out like a sore thumb here, and the two goons were closing in. Panting, he dove behind some crates.

With eyes keener than a falcon's, he scanned his surroundings, mind ticking like a watch. The longer he stayed, the more attention he'd attract, and the two guards had grown to a small police force. It was foolish to try to outrun them; they were trained, well-fed, and rested. He couldn't remember the last time he'd snatched a meal, or snuck in a few winks of sleep…

A construction site. Dead ahead. Another memorial tribute for one deceased king or another-- he really could care less.

His face lit up. Just his luck, the workers were preparing to raise a scaffold to deliver materials. He crept along the wall, keeping to the shadows. The young thief lunged forward, throwing himself in a pile of wooden planks. He crouched at the bottom of the scaffold, making himself as small as possible. Rubbing his hands across the dusty scaffold floor, he ran his hands through his shock of white hair, leaving it a sooty brown. It was his trademark, and if visible, would be a dead giveaway.

Suddenly, his stomach lurched, and he felt the ground push up into him. The platform swung forward and they were off, slowly lumbering skyward, the thief concealed in the load of wooden boards.

Shouts from below told him his pursuers had caught up. Chancing a glance, he peered over the edge of the pile. The guards were arguing with the construction workers, and none too gently.

"I demand you lower that scaffold!" he who seemed to lead the patrol barked, thrusting a finger at the rising platform.

"That's impossible!" the worker retorted. "We have strict orders to have the statue erected in two days! You'll put us behind our schedule!"

"If you like orders so much, then as the Chief of Police I ORDER you to halt all construction until we search the premises!"

The young thief attention was peaked. He had the capital's Chief of Police on his tail too? He weighed his options. The fact that the Chief of Police was now involved meant that he had gotten hold of quite a prize. Ten chances out of ten, the captain would get the scaffold lowered; his orders were law, and he had no issue using force if necessary. If he stayed, he'd be inevitably caught. If he jumped three stories down, he'd die, and be beaten to death if he wasn't.

The scaffold jerked to a stop.

His heart pounded in his chest so loudly he swore they could hear it. He was trapped. There was no way out.

With a creak, the scaffold began its slow trek back to the ground...

* * *

Oo

Rate and Review please! Constructe criticism is apparently appreciated.


	3. Traces

* * *

**BTW WHEN IT'S IN FIRST PERSON, THAN ANZU IS SPEAKING! Remember she's called "Anuket" here because its Ancient Egypt, thus an ancient Egyptian name would be appropriate. **

Lol I love toying with this ass-kicking Anzu. Its nicer than all the friendship crap for a change. 4kids completely bastardized everything, she was actually tomboyish and probably one of the best anime females in the original jappanese version.

Rock on Anzu

1. **Kemosiri**: Egyptian for "Black Osiris", Osiris was the Egyptian God of fertility, life, and death.

2. **Muut**: Arabic for "Die", this was in the manga too

**_' ' Traces_** **_' ' _**

**Outskirts of Thebes**

**1946 B.C., Twelve Years Later**

Master's Headquarters

* * *

"Master, I can do it myself!" I said again, irritated, tailing him through the dimly lit corridors. "We don't need some riffraff—"

"Yes you do, Anuket," Master replied. "If there's any hope of pulling this stunt off, we're going to need help. There's no one out there who knows the lore of the Sennen Items better than Bakura. Winning him to our side would prove to be a huge asset."

Given, he was possibly the most notorious thief to have ever walked the Earth. Yet something about his name seemed so familiar…

"The more this spreads around, the less likely chance we have of pulling it off!" I persisted stubbornly. "Two many cooks spoil the broth!"

He spared me a glance over his shoulder.

"Well then, this is one cook we _need_."

Few people have ever seen Master's face and lived. I am one of the lucky few. One can't be too careful, if one is one of the most wanted criminals in all of Egypt, I suppose. Master is many things, many faces; he executes many operations. Blackmail, assassination, and thievery are all included a typical workday of his. In fact, you never really know _**why**_ the law is after him; his felonies are endless.

But what I do know is that he is _**well respected**_. Thieves come to him from far and wide for his blessing before sacking a joint, and the mere mention of his name can either have you publicly executed or granted special acess.

If it _is_ his real name, which I highly doubt it is.

A cloaked man ran up to us, his gaze locked on the floor out of repect.

"Master **Kemosiri **" he started. "They await you, m'lord."

Ah, so there was a raid going on tonight?

I folded my arms across my chest, tapping my toe impatiently. In fact, I don't know what possesses me to be so rude to Master, but I am. Strangely, he tolerates it, anyhow.

"Anuket," he growled dangerously. "You have your orders. Don't disappoint me."

With that he was gone.

Mm, vaguer than usual, I'm afraid. How convenient for him.

* * *

**Thebes**

**1958 B.C., Twelve years ago (back to the night of the last chapter, to explain kura's story y'know?)**

**marketplace**

* * *

Out of desperation, he looked up. The scaffold was held in place by four cables, one on each corner. They all connected to a knot above him, which was rigged to some sort of tackle and rigging mechanism at the top of the memorial structure. The cable ran through the pulleys at the top, and then slipped out the other side, connected to large slabs of stone.

Ah, he understood. It was a pulley system, weighted at one end with stone to gain more leverage, a sort of makeshift crane.

It was getting closer to the ground.

He whipped a dagger from his robes and slashed it in a ring around him.

Wooden planks avalanched down on the patrol below, sending workers scattering in all direction. Two guards and worker weren't quick enough, getting buried by rubble. The rest of the patrol charged for the platform, scouring the area for the young thief.

"Is he alive?"

"That shoulda killed 'im!"

"I don't see a body…"

"Up there! The rope!" the Chief barked. "He must have jumped last second! He's climbing to the top, head him off!!"

He was clambering frantically up the cable, dagger between his teeth, struggling to reach the top of the monument. The soldiers rushed at the unfinished memorial, thundering up the steps.

Something whizzed by his ear, and he felt a stinging pain burn in his left hand. He swung to the right, dodging the next knife that lodged in a column next to him. Heaving, he threw himself over the top platform of the scaffolding, dimly lit by lanterns hung on the columns.

Greeted by metal boot to his cheek, he flew back across the platform. The soldiers rained down on him.

He jerked to the left, narrowly dodging a blade and returning the strike with a slash of his own dagger.

The structure began to sway beneath their combined weight, the rocking glow of the lanterns merged with their fighting shadows made the scene look explosive.

Try as he might, he couldn't take all four of them. Blows rained down on him left and right, knocking out what little breath there was left in him. He lashed out with his dagger, kicking with his feet, hitting whatever came his way. From the corner of his eye there was a flash of motion. He had just enough time to raise his arm to block the kick when there was a sickening snap and his skull connected with the wooden platform floor.

There was a coppery taste in his mouth… his own blood?

Seizing his arms from either side two soldiers wrenched him to his feet. The third clasped shackles around his wrists, and the fourth stood before him.

"End of the line, brat" the fourth snarled.

The thief vaguely noted medals garnishing the man's right shoulder.

"Stealing from a merchant and then assaulting officers? You've sealed your fate, kid," the Chief of Police hissed. "Search his robes! That was a priceless heirloom!"

His head hung pathetically, defeated.

They roughly turned out his pockets, grabbing the bracelet and returning it to the Chief. "Hn, all that chaos for one lousy street rat. You're gonna pay for wasting my time, brat!" The Chief snapped, backhanding the young thief for good measure.

His head rocketed to right, gazing locking on the streets below. His spectacle had gathered quite an audience, watching anxiously stories below. He must have been at least several hundred feet high.

"Get a good look around kid. This is the last time you'll the sky for a long time," the Chief taunted. "Get him down, boys."

The thief muttered something incoherently.

The Chief whipped around furious. "Eh? Speak up, if you're gonna waste your breath, scum!"

The thief's piercing gaze locked onto the Chief's.

"_Muut_ ."

In the blink of an eye, he had wrenched out of the clutches of the two soldiers restraining him. He leapt to the edge of the building.

"Grab him!! He's going to jump!!

A roar broke out in the crowds below.

The thief slammed his wrists into the oil lanterns. With a loud crack, it exploded into millions of shards, a few biting into his skin. Ignoring the pain, he let the oil roll onto his bloodied wrists, under the shackles…

The soldiers had woken from their stupor. They charged at him, full force.

He whipped of the cuffs, chucking them at the oncoming soldiers. He didn't stay to find out who was hit.

Wasting no time, he raced to the very edge of the scaffolding structure, jumping onto the crane. He used his weight to swing the pulleys around—

The weighted rock slabs slammed into building behind him.

_CRACK_

Wood splintered in a thousand places. Before the Chief had registered what happened, the ground gave way beneath him as the structure hurtled five stories down to the ground.

The crowd slipped into chaos, rushing forward to the mass of rubble.

The young thief smiled at the scene from his perch on a nearby rafter.

With all the distraction, no one noticed he went missing….

* * *

The alley was pitch silent, and dark as hell now that it was night. He stared at his bloody wrists as he trudged on. He'd managed to pick out most of the shards, but even _he_ knew he'd need some sort of medical attention if he wanted to live. His clothes were thoroughly mangled, more so than before. His entire diaphram was swollen, leaving him with robbed of breath.

He cursed. How the hell was he gonna work around a broken rib?

"Hey! You!"

They'd caught up!?

He spun around.

"I followed you all over the city!!" the girl panted, leaning on the alley wall to catch her breath.

The girl? The one he'd gotten it from? He sized her up. She must have been around five or six, maybe a noble from her dress…

"Now, give it back!" she demanded, holding her hand out expectantly.

He fingered the golden trinket in his pocket. The Chief was too distracted to even notice it gone when the thief had grabbed it back.

"Fine," he said, smirking. "I'll play you a little game for it. You win, it's all yours. Do we have a deal?"

She blinked, clearly taken aback by how easy he was making it.

"Sure! Wait, what if you win?"

"Then you clearly don't want the bracelet enough," he countered. "_Anuket_"

"I do want it, and I will win!" she huffed childishly. "Who are you anyways, thief?"

"Bakura,' he answered smugly. "**King** of thieves."


	4. Jackal abd the Hound

Shizzzz, I almost forgot about this!! I really need to start checking my email more! xD

Well I've always been a fan of YB and Anzu, but I wanted a proper premise for their relationship. I mean he can't just totally ant to claw her clothes of without _reason_...

Okay fine, only for the 50000000 horny fangirls of the shipping. But no other reason.

* * *

She eyed him warily; how was she supposed to trust a thief to follow rules, much less the self-proclaimed King of Thieves?

"What kind of game?" she began, bright eyes flickering rapidly between his, struggling to catch any bluff.

"Relax _princess_, nothing too complicated or it just mind blow your pretty empty head apart," he drawled, examining the bracelet in the last light of the setting sun. "But we still need to make it a little fun though.. So there's going to be some risks…"

"What kind of risks?" she demanded, glaring at him. The sooner she got this over with, the better. She harbored no desires to spend any more time with him than was absolutely necessary. She needed to get back to the caravan after all, and--

Realization slammed into her full-force.

She had absolutely no idea where she was. **_Not. One. Clue._**

Anuket had jumped into a single-minded purusit after him with only the bracelet in mind, but she hadn't give a single thought to getting back to her family. She would save the bracelet, but who would save her?

She scoured the are, desperately trying to catch some landmark, some semblance of home…

Nothing. The gutters brimming with trash, the mud-colored walls, the narrow, winding alleys were all foreign to her. The guards, the merchants, the customers were all gone. She had never seen this face of the city before.

His animal cunning, well honed with years spent fighting to survive in the streets, hardly failed to pick up on her fault.

"Ahh, so I see you've never graced these parts before have you?" he purred darkly. With feline agility he sprung from the rafters, landing squarely before her. She staggered back in surprise, drawing a leg behind her to brace herself.

"Well," he murmured, "I'd hate to be a poor host, so I'll let you have the first turn. We're going to play "jackal and the hound", and before you complain there will be boundaries. We'll use that old building over there, see?" he pointed out a decrepit, crumbling inn a few paces behind him. The doors and windows were latched, sloppily boarded up. Cheap paint crept up the sides like gnarled fingers. The brick roof threatened to give way at any moment. She couldn't imagine who in their right mind would ever enter in the first place.

"It's empty, the tenants have all fled, and its gonna be demolished any day now, so they'll be no one to intrude on our little game. If you can find the bracelt within seven minutes, its is yours, no questions asked. But if you fail…," his beady eyes watched her intently, "alone, lost, and helpless…you may lose more than just an ugly trinket..."

The insult to her father's craftsmanship stung her fiercely. How dare he, the grimy street rat!! Her father had spent days, nights, poured his blood sweat, and tears… Business had not been well this season, and the entire family's survival lay on the hopes of that one bracelet. Worked in an exotic, elegant metal it was bound to sell for a pretty penny, at least cover food for a while. What would this creep know of hard work, or honor, or family?!? He cared for no one but himself!

"You've got taste, I'll give you that, since you snatched that piece," she snarled. "I'll play your game, and if you don't fork over my bracelet when I win, you'll wish _**you**_ would have spent the night **_starving_** instead!!"

"Confident aren't we?" he countered. "Then I suppose you won't mind giving me a little **headstart**!" Before she could blink he had tore up the side of the building and disappeared into the cracks of one of the windows.

She burst into a sprint, the soles of her sandals slapping the pavement as she flew by. Using her momentum, she threw herself at the building, sending the door flying of its rusty hinges.

The second she took a look around, she cursed herself for being so naïve. Of course the jerk would have a sly trick up his sleeve. There could have been four elephants in the room for all she knew; the foyer was lit only by the whatever last scraps of light managed to peer into the boarded up windows. Her eyes would be of no use to her here.

She had to work fast. Night was falling, time was running out-- every second past made him that much closer to winning. She'd have to rely on her other senses.

Shutting her eyes, she strained her ears.

Nothing. No ancient floorboards creaking, no rhythmic breathing, nothing.

She took a breath, and tip-toed forward.

Nothing.

She took another, then a few more…

Soon, she could make out a staircase that looked anything but safe, at the far end of the foyer. Holding her breath, she slowly ascended…

Right foot, then left, one more, so close--

The ground was ripped from beneath her. Suddenly she was on air, spiraling downward toward--

With speed she didn't know she had she lunged for the railing, watching the staircase collapse under her.

Her ears perked up. She could have sworn she heard laughter…

He was close. She could feel it.

Anuket crawled up the railing, slipping off at the second floor landing. At the end of the hall one window lay wide open, probably the one he had clawed his way through. It was obvious he wouldn't stay here then; if he had heard her fiasco on the stairs.

A spark caught her eye.

She spun around, greedily scanning the room.

Had it been her mind playing tricks on her?

No, no she was sure of it! She had seen some sort of spark!

She gasped.

There, at the furthest corner of the room, stashed messily behind a dusty curtain, was the bracelet.

Relief washed over her like a monsoon. She couldn't believe he stuck to his word! She couldn't believe she'd done it! She'd actually done it! She beat the thief at his own game! She broke out laughing; she could hug him she was so relieved--

"This is no place for little girls to play.."

Her heart stopped.

The voice was deep, menacing…She didn't-- she didn't know that voice. It wasn't the thief… They weren't alone!!

She whirled around. Three pairs of eyes assaulted her; she felt attacked. There robes, gossamer perhaps, were of a much finer making than the thief's, they couldn't lead ordinary lives. Rings of precious stones lined their knuckles, glimmering in the faint light. Their bodies were rippling with muscle, toned with what had to be years of physical labor. She racked her brain. No one who was forced to do manual labor to earn a living could make enough money to wear robes as exquisitely crafted as theirs, much less afford priceless jewelry At least none that she knew.

The only possible way they could be swimming in pools of money is if that money wasn't theirs.

She could practically feel her face drain of any color.

_They were bounty hunters._


End file.
